


The Princess of Idris

by purplebylove



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Multi, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplebylove/pseuds/purplebylove
Summary: Isabelle is the daughter of Maryse and Robert Lightwood, the king and queen of Idris. When Isabelle was just a newborn, it was said, the evil wizard Valentine put a curse on her, which went into affect when she turned eighteen years old. This curse doomed her to spend all of eternity in a deep sleep, locked up in a tower until true love's kiss met her lips.





	1. Princess Isabelle

In the country of Idris, there were many folk tales that had been passed down throughout history; there were stories of werewolves and vampires and fairies and warlocks, but none so great as the story of princess Isabelle Lightwood.

Isabelle was the daughter of Maryse and Robert Lightwood, the King and Queen of Idris. When Isabelle was just a newborn, it was said, the evil wizard Valentine put a curse on her, which went into affect when she turned eighteen years old. This curse doomed her to spend all of eternity in a deep sleep, locked up in a tower until true love's kiss met her lips. 

Of course, no one had seen a trace of Isabelle, or any of the many mythical creatures that had been talked about. It was said that they were locked behind a portal to somewhere known as the down world. Only those who were worthy could unlock the portal. This meant that Isabelle would only be saved by someone who truly believed


	2. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary meets up with the administrators of the Idris Art Institute.

Clary Fray sits up in the pitch black of her bedroom, her heart racing and her skin cold and damp. Another dream.The same dream, really. She had been having this dream for as long as she could remember, but lately, it occurred more often. 

She sees herself, running through what appeared to be a jungle, surrounded by a dark purple light that seemed to be guiding her. She was being chased by a man. It seemed as if she was running endlessly through the same patch of forest, and what she was running after or away from, she did not know.

Clary looks at the clock on her nightstand: 3:15AM. Always that time. It was like a sign. A sign of what, she did not know, but a sign nonetheless. Of course, many therapists, her family, and even her best friend, Simon, said it was nothing. But the longer she had these dreams and the more often they occurred, she felt drawn to some unknown, like she had a mission.

She lays back down, trying to will herself back to sleep, but it's not long before the whine of her alarm clock wakes her up again. She gets up from the bed, going to the mirror as she always does. Lately, life had become too routine. She looks at herself in the mirror, gazing at the green eyes, jungle green, that look back at her. The pull gets stronger, but Clary had to ignore it; she had a busy day ahead. 

She was meeting with a group of administrators from The Idris Art Institute; she had meticulously prepared her art portfolio for the last week, but somehow, it never seemed right. She just hoped that all her work for the past 17 years would be enough. It had to be, anyways, because this was her moment.

The room where she is meeting them is large, almost like an ocean, and they're the sharks that could swallow her whole. Although that's a little dramatic; these people didn't want her to fail, obviously. But it was still terrifying, almost as terrifying as the recurring dream.

She places her portfolio on the table in front of two men and a woman, then extends her hand to each one, shaking them firmly with a, "Hi, I'm Clary Fray."

"Yes, we've heard great things about you from your recommendation letters," the man in the middle states, and Clary smiles. He gestures to the portfolio and tells her, "Why don't you show us a few of your pieces."

She had picked about twenty pieces, each different from the rest, starting from one of her older pieces up to the most recent. Most of them didn't have a story; she had found some inspiration from various aspects of her life, but nothing had a deeper meaning than the one that stuck out most in her mind. It was one she created after she had been having the dreams for a while, before she had told anyone about them. It had taken her years to perfect it, but when she looked at it, she could close her eyes and she was back in that moment.

It clearly stood out to them, too. The women at the right of the table picked it up, giving it a curious look, then handed it to Clary. "Tell us about this one."

She thought that would be the easy part, but her tongue felt heavy.

"My father always told me stories before bed when I was younger. My favorite was the story of Princess Isabelle," Clary pauses, looking over the jungle scenery before her. "I even wrote it down, since it hadn't been saved through text. And like any good fairy tale book, there had to be at least one picture. This one is part of... a reccurring dream."

Saying it now, it felt like a weak anecdote. She couldn't tell them how she woke up most nights with that image burned into her mind, how she had told those closest to her about it and felt like she was living in some sort of foreign reality, how she was drawn to this place that wasn't even real. But it was her reality.

"A dream," the man who hadn't spoken yet states, his voice monotone. It's almost like a question, but without the inflection.

"Yes," Clary says, unsure of herself.

"Like a life's dream, or one that you have when you sleep?" The woman asks with a quizzical look.

"Both," She finds herself saying, and looks away. "It's like I'm trying to find my purpose within this dream, but I haven't found it yet."

They look over the other pieces, spending only a few seconds on each one, then the woman smiles and puts all of her pieces back into the portfolio.

"You have a lot of talent," She starts, "Your technique is adept and your understanding of art is proficient. You're a very qualified candidate for the Indris Art Institute."

With that, the fate of her future is still unsure, but Clary believes in herself. Not only that, but everyone else did too. Now it was time for the hardest part - the wait.

She meets up with Simon at the nearby cafe, The Coffee Bean, where he is patiently waiting for her with a scone and a Frappucino.

"How'd it go?" Is the first thing he asks when she takes a seat across from him.

There's a pause before Clary smiles and says, "I don't want to jinx things, but I'm optimistic."

"You're gonna get in," Simon shrugs, dipping his cookie into the light brown coffee he had ordered. "Let me see what you picked, anyway."

He takes the portfolio that Clary slides to him and nods as he takes each piece out. He stops when he's at the jungle piece and looks up at her.

"You finally finished it?" He asks.

"Not exactly. I don't think it'll ever be finished." She says, taking it back from him, marveling at the mixes of greens and purples. It was barely a snapshot, but it had done justice enough. It evoked the same feelings that the dream did, and she hoped this was what would seal her fate.

"We should celebrate," Simon says as he finishes his coffee. "There's a party tonight that the band is playing at, I can announce your big news before we start."

"We don't have to take it that far," Clary laughs as she stands up, but nods. "I think after stressing about that interview, I need some fun."

"Good, I'll pick you up at seven." Simon smiles, and they part ways at the door.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a preface to the story, and chapter one is coming soon! Any feedback would be lovely.


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